[SE] we counted galaxies

Amalia Before the perfect moment is broken, there is to be one last surprise. Head still resting upon his shoulder Amalia follows Deimos' hand. Up to the heavens, up to the dark: starlight and cosmos, familiar sights for two wanderers and wonderers such as them. So it is that for a moment the Shield is both confused and contented, assuming that the gift is the sight of the heavens, or the experience of being beneath them together, or some other such. One star glitters brighter than the others, clustered in a constellation. A star, it turns out, for them. "Oh," she gasps, a note of rapture, the starlight glittering in her eyes. "Oh, it's..." Perfect need not be said aloud, nor any of the other apt descriptors: incredible, wondrous, generous, beautiful. So instead of speaking she falls to silence, squeezing eloquently on her husband's hand, eyes turned to the star. Another minute and they will leave, but for now she needs this moment and this memory. Sword and Shield, forever entwined, alive and contented beneath the sky. {fin} reach for the stars: but child, first recognize the constellations of light you already carry inside you